


Perfect Slave

by Brittayarose



Series: Defiance and Devotion [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Bottom Dean, Darkfic, Dom!Sam, Dominant Sam, Evil Sam Winchester, Forced Submission, Heavy BDSM, Hurt Dean Winchester, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual, Secure Bondage, Soulless Sam, Sub!Dean, Submissive Dean, Top!Sam, Wincest - Freeform, dark!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brittayarose/pseuds/Brittayarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulless Sam takes what he wants, and in this case it's Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kidnapping

Sam brought Dean a plate of pie and sat down on the couch next to him. The last hunt had been rough and they deserved a break.

"Thanks." Dean mumbled with a mouthful of pie.

Sam grinned looking suspiciously pleased with himself for some reason. Dean barely had time to wonder why before his body started to feel heavy and the world began spinning. His eyes closed without warning and he slumped over on the couch.

Dean panicked when he awoke and realized he couldn't see anything. There was something covering his eyes, he could smell leather though and he seemed to be moving so there was a pretty good chance he was lying face down in the back seat of the Impala. Cold metal encircled his wrists which were secured behind his back. He struggled to sit up and discovered he couldn't. The seat belt was holding him down, and there was some sort of cloth in his mouth. His head hurt and he still felt woozy and dizzy. What the hell was in that pie?! More importantly, what the hell was happening now?! Sam hadn't been quite right since he came back from hell but he hadn't expected anything like this.

He struggled to find the hasp on whatever was locking his wrists together, chains clanking noisily with the effort. He heard Sam laugh from the front seat.

"You're not going to escape you know, those manacles are padlocked together."

Dean tried to ask Sam what the fuck was going on but the cloth gag made it difficult to get out anything other than muffled sounds. Sam laughed again in response.

"Just relax, we have a long drive ahead of us. I could always roofie you again if you think that would help." 

Dean kept quiet after that trying to pay attention to any turns they made so he could figure out where they were going but it seemed rather futile since he didn't know how long they'd been driving for before he woke up. He also had no idea which direction they were travelling. There was nothing to do but lay there and try to think of how he was going to get out of this situation and how he could get Sam's soul back once he escaped.

Hours passed before they finally stopped. It felt like an eternity to Dean. Sam cut the engine and came around to open the back door. Dean felt Sam unclick the seat belt and grab him by the shoulders to drag him out of the car. When he got to his feet he almost fell trying to take a step thanks to the chain between his ankles. He heard a door unlock and open and Sam ushered him forward into some sort of building. Dean listened closely to see if he could glean any clues from ambient noises. All he heard was wildlife and the wind. He couldn't hear any vehicles or other human noises. Wherever they were, they were alone... and possibly in the middle of nowhere...

Dean stumbled into the doorway of whatever building they were in and hearing Sam to his left he decided to try to take him out. He lunged forward and attempted to head butt Sam in the gut. Unfortunately Sam, having the advantage of his sight and unrestricted limbs, just stepped aside and Dean fell head first to the floor. It was apparently wood. Sam laughed that evil laugh again and Dean glared beneath his blindfold. This was not going well for him so far. Sam's strong hands were back on him pulling him up to his feet once again. He was shoved forward several paces and then pushed down onto his knees. He felt Sam chaining his arms to something behind him. He tugged hard and discovered that whatever it was, it was solid. He wasn't going anywhere. 

Sam took off the blindfold then and Dean's eyes adjusted to the sudden light, taking in the room around him. They appeared to be in a cabin or a small house of some sort. He was on the floor in the living room, chained to what was most likely a support beam. The floor was wood as he had guessed and there was a small collection of plain looking furniture in the room. Sam was standing in front of Dean, his gigantor figure blocking Dean's view of the rest of the room. He looked up at Sam, glaring daggers. He wanted to swear, to yell at Sam, ask what the fuck he thought he was doing, but yelling through the gag seemed more humiliating than intimidating so he decided to stick with his angry stare. Sam had a huge grin on his face and his hands in the pockets of his jeans observing Dean. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this to you big brother. Long before I lost my soul. Except the old me didn't want to make you do anything you didn't want to do. I, however, don't have that problem anymore." Sam's evil smile sent shivers down Dean's spine. Do what? What exactly was he about to do to him? Dean pulled on his restraints in response and growled at Sam. 

Sam reached behind Dean's head and untied the gag at last. A barrage of swears passed through his lips without any forethought. "What the fuck Sam? What do you think you're doing? Who are you working for? Is it Crowley?"

"I'm not working for anyone. I have no motivation to work for anyone but myself. And believe me I want you all to myself."

"What are you talking about Sam?" Dean was not following at all. What was Sam trying to pull?

Sam just grinned and backhanded him, spraying blood from his bottom lip. "You can call me 'Sir' from now on." Sam said. "I'm going to break you."

Dean spit out a mouthful of blood. “What does that even mean?” Sam slapped him again, the sting of it made his eyes water. 

“It means you’re going to be my little bitch and you’re going to do whatever I want. And I’m going to do whatever I want to you.” Sam knelt down so his face was only inches away from Dean’s and grabbed him by the hair. “Right now, you’re going to show your new Master some respect.” Dean spat more blood into Sam’s face. Sam backhanded him again, knuckles connecting hard with his left cheekbone. Dean inhaled sharply and glared at Sam. He had no intention of giving Sam the satisfaction of calling him Sir or Master. He wondered what the hell Sam thought was going to happen. He looked around the room to see if there was anything nearby to pick the lock on the manacles. There was nothing in sight that would be of use and they were too tight to wriggle out of. 

Sam released Dean’s hair and picked up the black cloth he'd used as a gag earlier. He forced it between Dean’s lips and retied it behind his head. Then he got up and walked out of the room. A sinking feeling started to form in Dean’s stomach. There was no way out of this and he had no idea what Sam was capable of without his soul. He really didn't want to find out either but as far as he could tell, he had no choice. He jerked his arms in frustration and sighed heavily when they refused to budge, leaning his head back against the support beam in defeat.

When Sam returned he was carrying an iron collar attached to another length of chain. Dean growled low in his throat as the cold metal was clasped and padlocked around his neck. The iron chain hung thick and heavy to the ground in front of him. Sam smirked and gave it a tug. “Perfect.” Dean wondered if this meant Sam was going to unchain his wrists, but no such luck. His shoulders were starting to get sore from having his arms behind his back and he desperately wanted the wet piece of fabric out of his mouth. He twisted and wriggled trying to find a more comfortable position. Being collared like an animal was humiliating, and having to stare at Sam’s smug face as he held the end of the chain was even worse. 

“There’s something oddly satisfying about watching you struggle.” Sam released the length of chain and let it fall to the floor noisily. “Take a look around, do you like our new home? I’ve still got a few adjustments to make… but I think it’ll do quite nicely. No more living in the car, sleeping all cramped up in the back seat. This is going to be so much better. No nosy neighbours around either, so you can scream as much as you like. You go ahead and sit tight for now, I have some home renos to do.” He got up and walked out of view. Dean could hear him drilling and hammering. It seemed to go on for hours, but he had no way of telling the time. He needed to stretch, to change positions, something. He could tell the sun was going down as the light from the single picture window began to fade. 

Finally Sam returned and sat down on the floor in front of him with his legs crossed. “How ya doin’?” Dean glared at him out of the corner of his eye. Sam reached out and ran his thumb along Dean’s lower lip. The wheels started to turn in Dean’s head then, it was starting to come together. It didn’t make any sense, but what did that matter? Being chained up by his brother in a desolate cabin didn’t make much sense to begin with. He tried to speak through the gag. Sam laughed and put his hand up to his ear. “I’m sorry what was that? I can’t understand you. It looks like you might have something to say. If I take out your gag are you going to be a good boy?” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam smacked him again. “That’s not very respectful Dean. Do you want the gag out or not?” Dean nodded slowly. “Good.” Sam untied it and dropped it onto the floor carelessly.

“Is that what this is about Sam?” Dean licked his lips happy to be free of the impediment at last. “You want to fuck me?”

“I don’t just want to fuck you. I am going to train you to be the perfect sex slave.” Sam’s finger was back on Dean’s lips. He turned his head away and Sam grabbed him by the hair. “You’re always so stubborn, we’re going to have a lot of fun. Well, at least I am.”

Panic set in then. He was completely at Sam’s mercy, and he had no hope of escaping his current situation. Logically he knew there was likely no use in fighting back but his instincts were screaming at him and he took the chance while Sam was still close. Dean smashed his forehead into Sam’s nose as hard as he could manage. Sam yelled in rage and backhanded him again. “I’ve had enough of your insolence, Dean.” Sam snarled while wiping the blood from his nose. Sam slapped him across the face four more times, splitting his bottom lip open again. “I’ve always wondered if blood makes a good lubricant. I guess we’ll find out now won’t we?”

“Don’t do this…” Dean begged as Sam unzipped his pants. Before he could get out another word Sam’s huge cock was parting his lips. Sam slid the head in and out, slick with blood and spit, it stretched his jaw and it hurt. Sam’s fist was curled in Dean’s hair, holding his head in place. Dean started to gag as Sam pushed in deeper. Faster and faster, he thrust his cock down Dean’s throat making him choke and filling his eyes with tears. Sam just grunted and laughed, a harsh, loud sound that filled the air. He pulled out a bit after a while so that just the tip was sliding between his lips once again. 

“I’m going to give you the chance to be good, to make this end quicker. Use your tongue, suck me like you mean it. Show me what a good slave you can be and I’ll come for you a lot faster. Or I can keep fucking your throat. Your choice.” Dean wasn’t particularly happy with either of those options but he chose to run his tongue over the head of Sam’s cock, sucking as hard as he could, hoping it would be good enough. Luckily for him it was. Sam’s grip on Dean’s head tightened and Sam moaned with pleasure as the hot liquid spurted into Dean’s mouth. Sam wouldn’t remove his cock until Dean swallowed all of his cum. Dean tried to stare Sam down afterwards, he was angry at being used as his fuck toy, but worse than that he was angry with his own body for responding the way it did. The thought that some part of him enjoyed that was terrifying.


	2. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's not quite ready to submit yet, but he doesn't have a choice. And maybe he sort of likes it..

Chapter 2

        He didn’t have very long to consider it before Sam was unchaining his wrists from the support beam. He grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him up to his feet. It was a bit of relief to not be sitting in the same position anymore. Sam brought him to the middle of the room and lifted his arms up above his head, rechaining them to a sturdy looking hook on the ceiling. This wasn’t much better on his shoulders, but at least he was standing up for now. Then Sam disappeared momentarily and came back with a steak knife. Dean swallowed hard, “What are you doing with that Sam?”  
  

       “Calm down, you’ll be fine.” Sam said staring him up and down. Somehow this wasn’t very reassuring. Then the knife was sliding up the hem of Dean’s shirt, pressed against his stomach, the dull side against his skin. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as Sam brought the knife all the way to the top of the T shirt and cut it off of Dean’s body. He shredded it and let it fall to the floor, no more than scrap fabric. Dean exhaled loudly as Sam put the knife down on the coffee table behind him. His relief was short lived however as Sam opened a large wooden chest and pulled out a long black leather whip. “It’s time for your punishment.” He stated grimly. The blows were quick and precise. The loud crack of the whip ringing in his ears with each successive blow. He cringed as it came down upon his back and shoulders again and again. He could feel the angry red welts forming on the surface of his skin. His body heaved with each stinging blow and he tried to lessen the pain by arching his back away from Sam’s harsh ministrations. Tears filled his green eyes as flashbacks of his time in hell started to invade his consciousness. He couldn’t hold in his screams any longer. The screaming obviously didn’t bother Sam who kept up with the thrashing, methodical and unrelenting.

       “Are you ready to be good now?” He asked, pausing between strokes at last.

       Dean nodded, sucking in deep racking breaths, unable to form any real words. Sam brought the whip down again briskly on his lower back.

       “I expect an actual answer slave, or I’m going to continue with your punishment.”  
  


       “Yesss.” He barely managed to get out, his voice cracking. Sam brought the whip down again, this time on his left shoulder. He cried out involuntarily.

 

       “No, that’s not quite what I want to hear.”

 

       “Yes Sir...” he whispered looking down at the ground in defeat.

        Sam put the whip down on the couch and reached up to unhook him from the ceiling. His height made it seem like such an easy task. Dean collapsed onto the floor in a heap, his legs were no longer able to hold him up and his wrists were bruised and raw from his weight pulling on the thick iron cuffs. He was exhausted and sore everywhere. Sam picked up the length of chain from the collar and jerked Dean to his feet. He stumbled, fighting the chain between his ankles as he was led to a tiny bathroom and shoved inside. 

        “You have 7 minutes.” Sam stated as he closed the door, leaving Dean alone. The first thing he noticed was the tiny window with metal bars on the inside. He got the essential stuff out of the way quickly so he could search the bathroom for any sort of lock pick. If figured that if he could free his hands he had a chance at taking Sam. He searched the little cabinet under the sink, the tub drain, the window sill, the medicine cabinet, they were all empty. There was absolutely nothing of use in the bathroom and his time was running out. He looked up and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like hell, his face was covered in his own blood and his cheek bone had a bruise forming on it. Worst of all were his lips, they were swollen and cut open. He turned on the water and rinsed some of the blood off his face. He was sure his back looked like raw meat but he didn’t have time to check. Sam opened the door again as he was shutting off the water and grabbed him by the chain. 

        “Time’s up slave. I’ve got your room all ready for you.” Sam brought him to another small room, this one had no furniture whatsoever, but a window with bars on it and lots of O rings screwed into the walls and the floor, and one in the ceiling as well. There was a small pile of blankets and a pillow in one corner. Sam pushed him into the room hard, knocking him down to his knees and fastened his ‘leash’ to the O ring closest to the pile of blankets. There wasn’t enough slack for him to stand up, or even to straighten out the blankets much. He was too done to care, he just let his body fall wherever. Chains clanking with his every movement. Sam turned out the light and shut the door, locking it behind him as he left. Dean’s mind was racing and his stomach was rumbling, but exhaustion won out and he passed into a fitful sleep before too long.

        It seemed like it was only moments that he had been asleep when Sam woke him again with a hand in his hair. “Shh.” Sam hushed him. “It’s okay, I don’t need you fully awake for this.” Dean’s stomach lurched and he tried to pull away. Sam’s grip in his hair tightened enough to hurt, and to hold him still.     

        “Sam… Please…” Dean whined. He was met with another slap to the face.   
  


        “I’m pretty sure you already got one beating for not addressing me properly, do you want another?” Sam’s voice was sharp and even. Dean shook his head as much as possible within Sam’s tight grip. 

        “No… Sir.” He ground out between clenched teeth. 

        “Good boy. Now open wide.” Sam said, and Dean could feel the head of Sam’s cock pressing against his bottom lip. He reluctantly opened his mouth and Sam thrust down his throat, reminding him just how helpless he was. He could feel his body starting to betray him again as Sam fucked his face. His cock was too big, and he seemed to greatly enjoy making Dean gag on it. He tried his hardest to relax his throat and focus on his breathing so he wouldn’t choke as much. Sam pulled out of his throat a bit and started sliding the head in between his lips again, in and out, he could taste Sam’s precum on his tongue. “Be a good slut and suck me off nicely and I’ll let you go back to sleep for another couple hours.” Sam offered. Dean shuddered and fought back his internal monologue as he licked and sucked, swirling his tongue around the tip. It didn’t take much longer for Sam’s hot cum to fill Dean’s mouth. He wanted to spit, but couldn’t so he let some of it dribble out of his mouth around Sam’s cock and then he grimaced and swallowed the rest. It honestly didn’t taste that bad, but the thought of swallowing his brother’s cum was mentally daunting.

        Sam released his hair at last and let him fall back down onto his uncomfortable makeshift bed. Dean could hear him zip up and leave the room, locking the door behind him once again. And then Dean was left alone again in the dark with a problem of his own, which he was desperately trying to ignore.


	3. The Undeniable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean still hasn't learned his lesson, but Soulless Sam is patient and doesn't have a problem correcting bad behaviour. Dean is having a hard time suppressing his physical reactions and what they mean...

Dean woke up at the crack of dawn, sunlight was just beginning to filter through the bars. There was no sign of Sam yet and he couldn’t go anywhere so he sat on the wooden floor, blankets tangled around his legs, trying to keep from leaning against the wall with his welt covered back and shoulders. He didn’t want to be awake, he was still so tired, but now hunger had joined forces with pain and he couldn’t relax enough to fall back asleep. 

Deep down inside Dean felt like he deserved everything Sam did to him. After all the only reason Sam was back at all was because of him. Dean was the one who had been so desperate to have his brother back at any cost that he did that spell without finding out if Sam would come back whole and himself. Now he was paying for his mistakes. It wasn’t Sam’s fault he had come back from hell without his soul, it was Dean’s and now Dean had to fix it. But how? Sam was keeping him on total lockdown. There seemed to be no way out of this one, except maybe a miracle. That was it! Dean closed his eyes and brought his palms together. ‘Cas, can you hear me? You have to help me. It’s Sam. He came back wrong somehow and he’s keeping me prisoner. You have to come find me.’ Dean opened one eye and peered around the room. Nothing. He listened for any sort of response. Anything at all, but there was silence. No response whatsoever. He tried screaming in his head. Then he started talking out loud hoping that would help. 

The door opened suddenly, startling Dean. It wasn’t Cas though as he’d hoped. It was Sam, and he looked annoyed. “He can’t hear you, you know. And he even if he could you have enochian runes carved into your ribs. He’s not going to be able to find you. You don’t even know where we are. I guess it’s time for your second punishment since you’re trying to escape.”

“I’m not trying to ‘escape’ Sam, I’m trying to get you some help. You came back wrong and you know we need to get your soul back.”

“I don’t want it back. Why would I? I have everything I need here, and I feel more free than I ever have in my life. I don’t have to worry about morality anymore. Who cares what’s right and what’s wrong? No one can stop me. I can have whatever I want, including you. The sooner you realize that the easier it will be for you.” Sam was dragging him to his feet, strong fingers digging into Dean’s left bicep. He unchained the leash from the floor and Dean watched carefully as he tucked the key away into his pocket. Sam didn’t take him far this time, he pulled Dean’s chained wrists up and hooked the chain on the single ceiling ring with the padlock. A sweat was already breaking out on Dean’s forehead. This was not good. His back was still burning from yesterday’s beating. He pulled on the chains and squirmed trying to find a position that would stop the burning ache in his shoulders. It wasn’t working.

“What’ll it be today big brother? Do you want the whip again? Or maybe you’d rather the cane or the crop… Or I could bring out the knife again, you should have seen how wide your eyes were when I cut off your shirt yesterday.” 

“The crop.” Dean responded quickly at the mention of the knife.

“What was that?” Sam sneered.

“The crop… Sir… please.” Dean mumbled looking down at the floor and blushing. 

“Beg me to punish you with the crop.”

“But I don’t actually want you to punish me with the crop.” Dean protested. 

“Then I’ll go get the knife.” Sam turned to leave the room.

“Wait! Please..” Dean swallowed hard, “Please, punish me with the crop… Sir…”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be cut!” Dean yelled in frustration at being forced to submit.

“Wrong answer. Last try.”

“Fine…” Dean sighed. “Because… I tried to escape.”

“Is it because you’re a bad boy?” Sam grinned at him lecherously.

Dean had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and briefly considered telling Sam to go ahead and hack at him with the knife instead. Of all the humiliating things. “I’m a bad boy… and I need you to punish me with the crop Sir. Please.” He blushed the deepest crimson, despite feeling the blood flow increase elsewhere.  
Sam looked rather satisfied with himself as he went to get the crop. When he returned he was carrying yet another length of chain along with the crop, but this one was different, it was much smaller and thinner. Dean saw something on the ends of it, and his green eyes drew wide. Sam’s amusement was quite apparent. He reached out and tweaked Dean’s right nipple, pinching and flicking and twisting without mercy. Dean gasped and squirmed trying to get away from those evil fingers. Every touch seemed to send more blood straight to his crotch. When he attached the clamps to Dean’s nipples he sucked in a deep breath and held it. The clamps were so tight, and heavy. Sam tugged on the chain and Dean whimpered as the clamps tightened further. 

“Today you’re going to count for me Dean.” He said as he snapped the crop down on Dean’s tender flesh. It stung fiercely on his open wounds. He counted with shaky breaths as the crop came down over and over and over again. Tears spilled from his eyes and he prayed to Castiel again out of desperation, forgetting for a moment that that was exactly what landed him this punishment. At least this time he kept the praying inside his head. The pain was unbearable, but somehow he made it through 40 strokes with the crop. He could feel blood dripping down his back and into the waistband of his jeans. If his hands hadn’t been strung up to the ceiling he would have collapsed already. When Sam finally unhooked the chains he did just that. Sam urged him to his feet by pulling the chain on the nipple clamps. Dean stood shakily, his legs threatening to give way beneath him any minute. He moved as quickly as he could manage, trying to keep the biting pain of the clamps to a minimum. 

“It’s time to eat princess.” Sam said crooking a finger under Dean’s chin. “real food this time.. I can’t have you fainting on me.” Dean managed to groan faintly in response. Sam led Dean to the kitchen table and pushed him to his knees next to a wooden chair. Then he chained his arms behind his back, around the table leg, which kept Dean from ripping off the nipple clamps as he so badly wanted to do. Those stupid clamps were driving him crazy. Everything about his situation was wrong and horrifying and insane, but his body didn’t seem to care. 

Sam puttered around the kitchen for a while until he finished cooking. He sat down on the chair next to Dean and put a bowl of something on the table. And then Sam was holding out a spoon in front of Dean’s lips. “Open.” he commanded. Dean felt like a small child, being fed this way. He took a bite reluctantly, remembering the drugged pie. It was oatmeal, with raisins in it. Oh god why? As if the torture wasn't enough.

“Really Sam? You’re hand feeding me gruel?” He realized after the words were out of his mouth that he probably shouldn’t have complained, but it was too late, the back of Sam’s hand connected with his face. Sam resumed feeding him without a word. He finished the rest of his slop in silence, hoping he hadn’t earned himself yet another brutal beating, he didn’t think he could handle another one without passing out from the pain. When he had choked down the last spoonful Sam let him up from the floor and bent him face first over the table. He struggled a bit, but Sam pushed his thumb into an open wound on his back and made him scream, he held still after that.

“You’re going to beg me to fuck your tight little ass.” He whispered, his face inches from Dean’s left ear. Dean felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. That was the last thing he wanted. Sam was huge, there was no way he could take that.

“No.. you can’t… please.” Dean whined and then added “Sir.” 

“If you beg I’ll use lube, if you don’t… well we remember how well blood works right?” Sam’s words sent icy chills down his spine. 

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Please fuck me… Sir.” He could feel Sam’s big hands pulling down his pants and his underwear. There was the click of a cap opening and closing and then Sam’s cold wet finger was pressing up against him. He hissed as Sam slid it inside, followed quickly by a second finger. He’d never had anything in his ass before, he squirmed trying to get away from those probing fingers, but Sam held him down firmly with the side of his face pressed up against the hard table. He barely had time to adjust to being stretched open when Sam pulled out his fingers and pressed the head of his cock inside. The pain hit him like a bright white light and he could barely breathe. 

“You might want to relax your muscles, the only one you’re hurting is yourself.” Sam advised giving his ass a slap. “Though honestly, I don’t really care either way.” Dean gasped and sucked in as much air as he could, trying to relax and get used to the giant cock ripping him apart. Sam moved slowly and methodically at first, and then he hit something inside that made Dean instantly hard again. Sam rammed that spot over and over and brought Dean to the edge, he cried out with every thrust. Soon he was babbling and begging and whimpering involuntarily while he writhed underneath Sam’s strong hands. Sam finished, spilling hot cum inside Dean, and leaving him panting and angry at being so close to getting off. What the fuck was wrong with him? That wasn’t supposed to feel so good. Sam pulled out and took off the clamps sending the blood rushing back into his sensitive nipples. The he led Dean to the bathroom with his wrists chained together in front of him. Sam gave him ten minutes this time. He didn’t even bother trying to find anything to use to escape. He had other needs to take care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events leading to Sam coming back from hell aren't canon. Dean never spent any time with Lisa and he found a way to bring Sam back shortly after they averted the apocalypse.


	4. The Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam brings Dean a present...

Sam triple checked that Dean was locked down securely before he left the cabin to get supplies. Dean flipped onto his stomach after Sam left the room and tried to sleep. His everything hurt, making it difficult to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden floor. The meager pile of blankets didn’t do much for him, especially with all the open wounds. He finally managed to fall into a dreamless sleep after at least an hour of tossing and turning. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep for when he finally awoke and hadn’t heard Sam come in, he wondered if he was still alone in the house. The sun was still out so it was probably some time in the afternoon. He sat up stiffly and noted the dried blood on the blankets where he’d been laying. He positioned himself with his knees splayed out awkwardly (due to the annoying ankle chain) and put his head in his hands.

He tried praying to Cas again, mouthing the words but not daring to make a sound out loud in case Sam was back. There was nothing but radio silence like before. Where the hell was he?! Why couldn’t he hear Dean? Was he searching for him? They hadn’t really spoken since averting the apocalypse. Something about Cas needing to take care of things in heaven, and Dean had been so hell bent on his quest to revive Sam, which Cas had been against… Then a thought occurred to Dean, maybe Cas could hear him praying and just didn’t care. What if Cas was just letting him get what he deserved for messing with the natural order of things. Again. He let out a big breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was starting to look like he wasn’t going to find his way out of this one any time soon. He realized he couldn’t go on getting himself beaten to a pulp every day. There was a lot he could take, but he would hit his breaking point sooner or later and then what? He needed to placate Sam for now, to buy time until he could swipe the keys to his manacles or somehow manage to get out of the cabin and look for help.

When Sam finally returned and opened the door to Dean’s room he was holding a small nondescript black bag. “I got you a present while I was in town.” he said with a wide grin. When Sam pulled out a ball gag, Dean backed himself further into the corner. He wanted nothing to do with his new ‘present’. He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. Sam crossed the room in a couple swift strides and pinched Dean’s nose shut forcing him to open his mouth if he wanted to breathe. The ball was forced between his teeth in an instant and the leather strap secured behind his head. He tried to protest but the only sounds that came out were whimpers and moans. For some reason this caused his treacherous cock to spring to life again. He shot daggers at Sam from beneath his long lashes. 

“Much better.” Sam said approvingly as he eyed Dean up and down. “You talk back too much for your own good. Maybe this will teach you a lesson about opening your mouth.” 

Drool started to form at the corners of his lips, which was humiliating. He was able to reach up and wipe it away with his hands chained in front of him fortunately. He tried to reach around his head to unbuckle the damn thing but he couldn’t quite get the right angle and then Sam grabbed him by the chain pulling his arms away. 

“Ah ah ah.” Sam scolded. He unlocked the chain from the O ring on the floor where it was fastened and brought Dean back to the kitchen. He sat him on the floor by the chair again. “It’s dinner time. I’m thinking a nice kale and quinoa salad. What do you think slave?” he asked smirking at him. Dean couldn’t hide the disgust on his face. Gross. Sam definitely knew how to make him miserable. He looked like he was enjoying Dean’s reaction. “I’ll stop feeding you rabbit food when you start behaving.” Sam left him there on the floor while he cooked the quinoa. Dean knew Sam hadn’t really needed to eat or sleep since he came back from hell so depriving Dean of real food was clearly a tactic he was using to make him more compliant. It was just like a soulless person to use food against him. 

Sam brought the pitiful excuse for dinner to the kitchen table and set it down. “Now you’re going to work for your supper.” Sam said shoving him under the table. This wasn’t fair, there was no way he wanted to work for anything with quinoa in it, or kale for that matter. Sam took out the gag and Dean rubbed his jaw, that stupid thing had hurt, but it wasn’t any bigger than Sam. And then Sam’s hand was in his hair dragging Dean’s face into his lap. His pants were already undone and Dean didn’t have much time to think about what was happening before Sam was forcing his face into it. He opened his mouth reluctantly realizing that a beating would ensue if he didn’t. Sam’s hand on his head set the pace, and kept him from pulling away to catch his breath. He fought against it ever so slightly hoping to keep himself from being choked. It didn’t work of course, every time he resisted Sam shoved his face down harder. He gave up trying to fight it and started working his tongue around the shaft, licking and sucking as much as he could hoping it would end faster. By the time Sam’s cum hit the back of his throat Dean’s pants were feeling undeniably tight. Sam released his head at last and Dean pulled away wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Can I come out from under the table now?”

“Nah.”

Dean sighed and stayed on his knees while Sam fed him like a baby again. He silently cursed as he ate, how anyone could stand eating this on purpose was beyond him. After he was finished Sam took him into a room he hadn’t seen yet. It appeared to be a master bedroom with a queen size four poster bed. There was nothing else in the room save a giant mirror on one wall. Sam shoved Dean down face first onto the bed so that he was facing the mirror. Then Sam’s hands were on his hips, dragging down his jeans again, just low enough to expose his ass. Sam’s huge hand was pressed down hard on the small of his back holding him in place. Dean clenched his eyes and his jaw shut while Sam’s long fingers probed at his hole. 

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you.” Sam ordered as he thrust two fingers inside, jabbing him in that spot again. His eyes shot open from the feeling alone. He couldn’t keep himself from moaning and writhing on the bed. All he wanted was more, faster, harder, no, stop, wrong so wrong. Sam didn’t stop, he kept thrusting his fingers in, pressing down hard on that spot until Dean thought he might cum without even touching his cock. Sam pulled out his fingers and Dean could feel his ass being stretched to its limits as Sam slid his cock inside. He bit his lower lip and watched himself in the mirror, staring at his green eyes, wide and tear filled, his swollen glistening lips. The image before him was indecent, slutty even, all he needed was smeared make-up to complete the look. Sam thrust into him hard, slamming him into oblivion. He lost all focus on anything that involved words or thoughts. Pleasure-pain over took him and brought him screaming to the edge of his wits.

When Sam was done with him and brought him back to his own room, he laid down on the blanket on his stomach and let the tears fall. This wasn’t what he wanted. So why the hell did he want it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super distracted by real life stuff so this one took longer to write and is shorter.. hopefully the next chapter won't take so long.


	5. The Escape

It had been two weeks since Sam had kidnapped Dean and brought him to their cabin in the middle of nowhere, and they had started to settle into some sort of twisted routine. Dean had grown used to the weight of the iron cuffs encircling his limbs. They felt heavy, grounding, and secure. Sam sometimes took off the chains between them for a little while, but the cuffs themselves remained locked in place. Sam had a voracious appetite for sex it seemed, maybe to make up for not having to sleep or eat. He seemed to need it at least twice a day. Dean had learned to relax his muscles most of the time to keep the pain to a minimum. He still felt like he was being ripped apart when Sam fucked him, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first few times. He had even been making an effort to keep his smart ass remarks in his head, and Sam hadn’t whipped him or thrashed him in 5 days. The wounds on his back had mostly healed in that time. 

Dean wiped the sleep out of his eyes, still tired from being woken up last night. Sam never let him sleep through the entire night, preferring to keep him tired and weakened. He groaned when Sam came to get him that morning for ‘shower time’, he hated shower time and was glad it only happened every other day. He imagined he probably made a pretty sight naked and on his knees in the tub, swallowing Sam whole, but he couldn’t stand the water running down his face, it was already hard enough to breathe with Sam’s cock down his throat. And trying to wash himself quickly when Sam was done with him wasn’t much fun either. He was always hard by then, but he never had enough time to do anything about it, and he was still in denial, not wanting to admit to himself why. 

Sam got himself dried and dressed and left Dean to finish washing up. He had 7 minutes while Sam waited outside the door. He rinsed everything off as quickly as he could and climbed out of the tub, he wasn’t fond of having Sam dress him so he always made sure to be ready before his time was up. As he was drying off something silver caught his eye in the shaggy blue bathmat. He bent down and picked up the tiny object. Realization dawned on him, it was the key that belonged to the set of padlocks Sam used to keep him chained up. It must have fallen out of Sam’s pocket while he was getting dressed. Dean quickly threw his jeans on and pocketed the key. He quickly pulled his t-shirt over his head, mind racing with ideas and fear. Sam would put his chains back on as he left the bathroom, but he didn’t need to use the key for that… There was no real reason for him to notice it was missing, unless he decided to check his pocket. It was a risk Dean had to take.

Sam opened the door and Dean tried to act ‘normal’, whatever normal was for their fucked up situation anyway. It was time for breakfast. Sam didn’t bother dragging Dean around anymore, he knew where to go and when, and what would happen if he didn’t. Sam padlocked the iron cuffs together behind Dean’s back, and he let out a small sigh of relief when Sam didn’t look for the key. He took his place on the floor by the table and ate the gruel Sam fed him, not paying any attention to how bland it was. All he could think about was how he’d be free soon enough, he just needed the right opportunity. The first thing he was going to do was find some greasy spoon and get a cheeseburger. 

“I’ve got to go on a supply run.” Sam announced after breakfast, “You know the drill.” Dean didn’t argue as he headed to his room and sat down on his blanket pile. This was perfect. He would be long gone before Sam got back. He waited until he heard the click of the front door being locked and then he worked the key out of his pocket, which was slightly awkward with his hands behind his back but he managed. He sat there in silence for another few moments just in case Sam had forgotten something and decided to come back. His supply runs usually took at least an hour, sometimes more so he had time. When he figured he had waited long enough he unlocked the padlock between his wrists and then his ankles and let the chain drop to the ground. The cuffs were next. There was something strange about having bare wrists and ankles, and then he removed the collar too and felt completely naked. He didn’t have time to do some sort of psychoanalysis on how fucked up he was though. He dropped the key onto the floor and went into the master bedroom where Sam kept their clothes in the little closet. He grabbed a hanger and bent the wire so he could pick the lock on the front door. It didn’t take long before he had the front door open. 

Outside, the world seemed so much brighter and more alive. He was surrounded by leafy green trees. There was no road anywhere to be seen. He could see tire impressions in the grass where Baby had been parked. How badly he wanted his car back. There was no time to worry about that either though so he chose the direction with the least amount of trees and started running, he ran as hard and as fast as he could. There was no way to gauge the time, running through that never ending forest, and no real paths for him to follow. He jumped over several fallen logs and almost tripped on exposed roots once or twice. He was panting and gasping in ragged breaths of air by the time he finally found the highway. His lungs burned with every breath and he felt like he had been running forever. He had no idea what highway he was on or what state he was in, or if it was even safe to be near the highway at all, what if Sam found him? He slowed his pace and walked alongside the road, hoping he could hitchhike or something.

He seemed to be walking a long time before he saw a single vehicle. Finally there was a car approaching, it looked like a cruiser. Never in his life had he been happy to see a cop car, but he waved this one down, thankful as it pulled onto the shoulder ahead of him. The cop got out of the car and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. 

“What can I do for you?”

“You have to help me, could you please just give me a ride to the nearest town?”

“You’re in a mess of trouble, aren’t you son?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Get in the car son.” the officer said as he opened the back door of the cruiser. 

The cop attempted to make polite conversation as they drove, asking him things like his name, and what he was doing out on the high way without a vehicle. Dean had no interest in talking, he was too antsy wanting to get as far away from the cabin as possible. He gave short responses and avoided answering as many of the questions as he could. He didn’t want to get Sam arrested, he had to find a way to help him, to get his soul back, then everything would be okay. His mind wandered as he tried to work out how he could retrieve Sam’s soul from the cage. The cop snapped him out of his reverie.

“I said, you sure are in a mess of trouble aren’t you son?” his remark sounded vaguely ominous, and Dean wasn’t sure why he was repeating himself exactly. He glanced out the window and realized they were turning off the highway, onto a dirt path in the forest. 

“Where the hell are we? This doesn’t look like a town.” Butterflies filled his stomach, something wasn’t right here.

“Your brother told me to keep an eye out for you. He said you might be wandering around the woods, lost. I don’t think he’s going to be too happy that you ran off without him.” The cop’s words sent Dean’s heart sinking into his stomach. The dirt path disappeared and then they were driving on the grass in a clearing.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Dean kicked at the handle-less door and tossed out a few more curse words. “Damnit! You can’t take me back there, you can’t! Look, he’s… he’s just not right in the head okay? Just, please take me to the nearest town so I can find someone who can help him.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that son. Your brother must be mighty worried about you by now. Look at you, you don’t even have any shoes on.”

Fuck. They pulled in to the clearing where the cabin was, and Dean could see the impala parked there next to the building. Fuck! The cop had been looking for him. It was a trap. The whole thing had been a fucking trap. Dean let his head fall forward and covered his eyes with his hands. There was no way this was going to end well for him.


	6. The Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains mentions of broken bones and other unpleasantness.

Sam burst out of the house, looking concerned for the first time since he came back from hell. The cop got out of the car and Dean could hear them talking.

“Thank you for bringing my brother home officer, he doesn’t realize how dangerous it is for him to be out of the house alone when he’s off his meds.” Sam shook hands with the cop and came around to ‘help’ Dean out of the car. Dean could see right through his act, but the cop seemed to be eating it up.

Sam opened the door and grabbed him firmly by the arm, “You scared me Dean, I was so worried about you. You know you can’t leave the house alone like that.”

Dean looked desperately toward the police officer as he was led out of the car, “He’s lying, I’m not crazy! Don’t let him take me back in there. Please! Arrest me, I don’t care, just get me out of here!” Sam started pulling him toward the house.

“Come on now, don’t waste the nice officer’s time Dean, you know I take good care of you, this is where you belong. Let’s go.” Sam urged him along. 

“Looks like you have your hands full there,” The cop said sympathetically to Sam.

Sam shrugged, holding on tight to Dean’s shoulders. “He’s my brother, he’s my responsibility.” 

The cop wished Sam good luck before getting back into the car and driving away. Sam immediately dropped the fake concern and shoved Dean inside. He swung at Sam and hit him on the chin. Sam returned the blow and cuffed Dean in the side of the head, leaving a ringing in his ear. He kicked Sam in the shin and almost knocked him off balance, but he caught himself and grabbed Dean by the throat, pinning him up against the wall. He struggled to push Sam away but he didn’t have enough leverage and he couldn’t breathe. His eyes started to roll back in his head, things were starting to blur around the edges. Finally Sam released him and he fell to the floor gasping for air. Sam kicked him in the ribs, hard. He felt something snap. He couldn’t stop coughing, every breath was torture. 

Sam grabbed him by the wrists and dragged him back into his room. The hard wooden floor bruised his knees as he was hauled along, struggling weakly in Sam’s grip. When Sam let him go briefly to grab the iron cuffs, Dean rolled over and started to crawl away as fast as he could, but Sam was quicker and his long fingers caught hold of Dean’s ankles and pulled him back again. He tried to kick him off, but Sam just held him down firmly with those gargantuan arms. Dean cried out in frustration before Sam’s fist connected with his face and everything went black.

 

When he came to, his wrists were chained above his head and he was standing (just barely) in the middle of his room. His left eye was swollen shut and the corner of mouth was split open, blood was dripping down his chin. Sam was circling him, eyeing him up and down. Dean half expected him to be angry, but he wasn’t, he was calm, cold, and calculating like usual. Sam hadn’t shown any real emotion since he got back from hell. When he spoke his voice was even and almost conversational. 

“That was a bad choice Dean. If you ever try to escape again I will break both your legs. And then I will shoot anyone who you’ve talked to.” He stated it, as though it were simple fact. An obvious consequence to his actions. “Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.” Dean choked out, initiating another painful coughing fit. He had no doubt that one of his ribs was broken. 

He twisted in his chains, trying unsuccessfully to track Sam’s movements as he walked around the room. He disappeared momentarily, and came back with what looked like a fountain pen. Dean could feel Sam’s hand on his hip holding him still as he pulled down his pants. Then there was a scratching, slicing feeling on his right ass cheek as Sam pressed down hard enough to break the skin. Dean choked as he tried to cry out, to ask Sam what he was doing, but it was obvious. He was marking Dean, he was claiming him as his own. The pain was a sharp stinging feeling, but it barely registered above the aching in his ribs and the bruising on his chest. He didn’t even try to fight it. There was no point.

When he finished with the DIY ‘prison’ tattoo, Sam left the room again and returned with a leather belt in his hand. As he paced around he struck Dean randomly on the torso with it. The blows landed hard and fast with a loud thud. Every time he hit anywhere near the broken rib, it sent tremors of searing pain throughout his entire body. He was a screaming sobbing mess in a matter of minutes. Begging Sam to stop and fighting for air. Sam was merciless, he said nothing and continued with the punishment. He could feel blood soaking his shirt and running down his back. Finally, when Dean was sure he couldn’t take any more he blacked out from the pain. 

He wasn’t sure how long Sam had beaten him for when he awoke. His vision was hazy and he was pretty sure he was dying. He was back on the floor in the corner of his room on his pile of blankets, chained at the wrists, ankles and neck. He drifted in and out of consciousness for at least two days, his only marker being memories of the amount of light in the sky during the random bouts of wakefulness. Time passed in a blur of agony. Every movement caused fresh pain to course through him again. When he started to come to more consistently, he was weak and ravenous. Sam came in at some point and left him a plastic cup of water and a bowl of oatmeal on the floor. Dean had to stretch out his arm as far as the chain let him to reach the dish, cringing the entire time. There was no spoon so he had to eat like a dog licking it out of the bowl, but he was so hungry he didn’t even care. He finished the entire bowl and then left it on the floor. He waited hours for Sam to come and get him, to feed him, to fuck him, to take him to the shower, something. Anything. But he didn’t come. 

An entire week passed, in which Sam left him in his room save for bathroom breaks during which he said nothing. Sam ignored him for an entire week, only leaving his food on the floor in the room each day. The silence and solitude was starting to wear him down. He was left alone with only his thoughts to keep him company, and the guilt of bringing Sam back ‘wrong’ weighed heavily on his conscience. He regretted ever trying to leave, and felt like it was all utterly hopeless. He couldn’t reach Cas, Bobby hadn’t talked to him since before he’d brought Sam back. There was no one to rescue him. And as his open wounds and his broken ribs healed, he began to feel that being ignored was the worse punishment. Some fucked up part of him deep down, missed Sam’s powerful hands holding him tight, making him do all those terrible things. He was ready to beg Sam to talk to him, to hurt him again, to fuck him… anything but leaving him all alone in silence like this. This was torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love and appreciate all your comments. They keep me writing! So thank you to everyone who comments and gives kudos. <3


	7. The Insatiable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is just happy Sam isn't ignoring him anymore...

On the eighth day, Sam came into the room and stood there next to Dean, staring down at him. “Have you learned your lesson yet?”

Dean pouted at him from beneath long lashes. “Yes Sir…” he said quietly. 

“Good. He removed the chains between the iron cuffs. “Are you going to come on your own or will I have to help you?”

“On my own…” Dean mumbled, looking down at the floor. Part of him was loathe to give in so easily, but he was so tired of being alone that he would do almost anything just to get Sam to keep talking to him.

“Good boy. You can take off your shirt.” He ordered. It was stiff with dried blood, and Dean removed it without complaint. He could see the bruising on his ribs for the first time, it was a dark purple with green around the edges. It was still so tender and he favored that side, trying to keep from aggravating it. “Shower time.” Sam announced. Dean hadn’t felt water on his skin in a long time, so long in fact that he was actually looking forward to it. 

As he took off his pants in the bathroom he wondered if he still owned any clothes that weren’t stained with blood. The water in the shower was freezing and Dean’s nipples were hard enough to cut glass. Sam didn’t seem to notice or care as he put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and pushed him down onto his knees in the tub. The cold water ran in rivulets down his face, blurring his vision and covering his entire body in goosebumps. He crossed his shivering arms over his chest in an effort to retain some heat. He could feel Sam’s thumb tracing across his bottom lip, spreading the dripping water around. Then his middle finger slid in between Dean’s lips and he sucked and licked like he knew he was supposed to. Sam made a noise that sounded like approval as he withdrew his finger and pressed the head of his cock against Dean’s lips. 

Sam grabbed the back of Dean’s head like he always did as he forced his way in. Dean’s hands were free, he could supposedly fight back somewhat, but he knew there was no point, he was weaker than Sam now and his body couldn’t physically handle another beating yet. He tried not to think about how much he had missed the taste of his brother’s cock. Sam’s thrusts were quick and desperate, he fucked Dean’s face so hard that his lips felt bruised. Sam pushed down deep into his throat and commanded him to swallow his cock. That hurt like hell, but it seemed to do the trick for Sam and he came immediately. He definitely had not missed this at all. And yet his body betrayed him once again. Sam finished washing and drying himself and then left the room to get Dean some clean clothes. He winced as he soaped himself up in a hurry and rinsed off as best he could. He wasn’t quite fast enough though and Sam came back in before he had finished. 

“Looks like you need help drying off.” Sam said. 

“I can handle it.”

Sam slapped him across the face. “I wasn’t asking.” Dean probably should have known better. Sam was rough with the towel and pressed hard on his bruises. His face turned crimson when Sam’s towel-covered hand made its way to his crotch. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you enjoyed this.” Sam stated. Dean looked down at the floor and said nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and Sam threw his clothes at him.

He pulled on the jeans and the black T-shirt, and thought about how nice it was to be wearing clean clothes again, finally. Sam grabbed him by the arm and led him into the living room where he shoved him unceremoniously to the floor. He barely hit the ground before Sam was sitting on his hips, his giant hand pressing down on the middle of his back. Dean could hardly breathe and he was worried about his cracked rib. Sam pulled both his arms behind his back forcing his elbows together in the middle. He moaned, trying not to scream out and ask what the fuck Sam was doing to him. Sam held Dean’s elbows with one hand and reached for something with the other and then Dean could feel him wrapping something around both his forearms binding them together tightly. It felt firm but sort of supple like a thick leather bracer but made to fit both arms at once.

It was different from the chains, at least with those he had some amount of movement. He felt extremely helpless with his arms bound so tightly together. The worst part was how turned on it made him. And then Sam’s hand was reaching up his shirt, pinching his nipple. “Fuck. Sam…” he hissed quietly, trying not to grind his cock against the hardwood floor. He almost lost it when Sam attached the clamps. He was a moaning, writhing, squirming mess. Sam helped him to his feet and led him to the bedroom by the collar. He was pushed down face first onto the soft bed and then Sam ordered him to get onto his knees. He couldn’t lift his torso on his own so he ended up with his ass in the air and his chest against the blanket, the weight of his body on top of the clamps driving him crazy. 

Sam pulled down his pants and spanked him. That was humiliating. After ten swats Sam said “I’ll stop when you beg me to fuck you.” Dean whimpered, feeling so conflicted. At this point he wanted Sam to fuck him, he actually wanted it more than anything, but that was so wrong. He watched himself in the giant mirror as the words tumbled out of his lips against his will.

“Oh god please, Sam, fuck me Sir… please. I need it so bad… Fuck!” he could see in the mirror his pupils were blown with lust and his was biting his already bruised lower lip. All the sounds he was making that he couldn’t control filled his ears. He saw Sam’s triumphant grin in the mirror and felt his finger cold and slick with lube press into him. He wanted it so bad. He cried out when Sam finally entered him with his cock. The pain of it was so good, stretching him, filling him, breaking him. Sam rode him hard, pressing into that magical spot inside him over and over, until he came without his cock ever being touched. Sam followed soon after and cleaned both of them up with a wet towel before pulling his pants back up.

Dean lay there on the bed panting and wishing Sam would untie him or at least take off the clamps, but he didn’t dare ask. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at what just happened. As if he hadn’t been fucked up enough before. Now he had to add ‘enjoys being used as a sex toy by his brother’ to the list. Sam didn’t waste time, he pulled him up by the collar and brought him to the kitchen to sit by the table and wait for breakfast. 

“I don’t know about you, but I think you deserve a treat today. What would you like, apple sauce or yogurt?” Sam asked. Dean wasn’t sure how either of those could be considered a treat, but it was better than oatmeal at least…

He made it through his breakfast of applesauce and raisins. God how he was starting to fucking hate raisins. Then Sam reached up his shirt again and pulled on the little chain between the clamps, making his cock jump to life again. Fuck. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t control his body. It wouldn’t listen to reason. 

“Quit it Sam!” he protested without thinking. Sam slapped him for talking back and reminded him that he was to be addressed as ‘Sir’. Dean didn’t have time to correct himself because Sam quickly filled Dean’s mouth with his cock again. Apparently going for a week without sex had meant Sam had a lot of lost time to make up for. When he finished, Dean’s lips and throat felt raw and his jaw was probably unhinged somehow. Sam left him there on the floor and walked to the wooden toy chest. When Dean saw what was in Sam’s hands when he came back, he scrambled to get away. It was useless of course. Sam caught hold of his head and held his hair tightly as he shoved the ball between his lips. Dean glared angrily at him, unhappy with his punishment for talking back.

He spent the rest of the day with his arms bound tightly behind his back, his nipples clamped and his mouth stretched open by the gag. Sam eventually took pity on him and removed it all at bed time. His shoulders and his jaw were aching by then and his nipples were so sensitive and sore that even his shirt touching them was too much sensation for him to handle. He was relieved to be back in his iron chains on his pile of blankets, and once Sam left the room he had to take care of his own problem.


	8. The Submission

The days that followed were much the same, Sam would take him from his room in the morning and let him get ready without his restraints and then bind him in some tight, uncomfortable position for part of the day and fuck him senseless. Some days he was well behaved, and other days he mouthed off and ended up gagged or whipped. The beatings were less frequent now though as he mostly tried to follow the rules. He still prayed to Cas once in a while, especially if he was having a particularly hard time, but he was long past expecting any answer.

It was a gray, windy day outside his barred window and he wished he could just stay in bed, or he would have, if he had an actual bed to stay in. Of course Sam was not going to let that happen. Dean was still tired from being woken up in the middle of the night every night, because Sam still had needs even at 2 o’clock in the morning, what with him not having to sleep at all anymore. Dean had discovered that being sleep deprived was a torture in its own right, but sometimes Sam would get busy with something else and let him nap during the day. If he was in the mood for a beating he would have considered begging Sam to let him sleep in. Instead he was up on his knees waiting with his hands behind his back when Sam came in. Sam unchained him from the floor.

“Do we need to use this today?” Sam asked holding up the end of his chain.

“No Sir.”

“Then you’re going to be good for me?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good boy.” Sam patted him on the head as he unlocked the chain from his collar and his cuffs. “Bathroom time then.” And Sam let him get up. Dean stood there confused for a minute, waiting for Sam to take him, but he didn’t move. “What are you waiting for? Go.” Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He went to the bathroom on his own. When he came out he expected to find his Master waiting with the chains in hand, but he wasn’t there. He looked over and spotted Sam in the kitchen, so he went over to the table and got down onto his knees in his usual spot.

“No, come here. I think it’s time for you to have a bit more responsibility.”

Dean got up slowly and walked over to Sam, wondering what ‘more responsibility’ meant. He was slightly wary of the pleased look on Sam’s face as he stood at the counter staring at him. Was this some sort of trap? Sam just smiled and passed him a butter knife and a loaf of bread. 

“You think you can handle making breakfast on your own?” He asked.

“Yes Sir.” Dean couldn’t contain his grin, excited at the thought of eating something that wasn’t gruel, and didn’t include any raisins. He raised his hand to open the cupboard door but stopped and looked at Sam first for permission, Sam nodded. There wasn’t much in there, but he managed to find a jar of peanut butter and a tub of honey. He made up the sandwiches and put them on a plate. Then he stood there awkwardly for a bit not sure what to do next. Sam laughed at him and pointed to his spot on the floor. He knelt down obediently and Sam fed him like usual. He kept his hands behind his back without being told. 

Sam didn’t chain him up after breakfast either, but his cuffs were still there, locked around his wrists, a heavy reminder of being owned. Sam sent him into the bedrooms to gather the blankets and bed sheets and dirty clothes and then set him to work doing the laundry. They had one of those apartment washer dryer combo things, it looked easy enough to use and Dean managed to figure it out quickly. After the clothes were in and he had turned it on Sam shoved him up against the wall face first, pinning his wrists above his head. He could feel Sam’s erection pressing up against his ass, he knew what was coming next.

He barely had time to think before Sam had him in the bedroom, sprawled out across the smooth, red comforter. It was the first time that he wasn’t restrained in the bed, and most of his injuries had healed now. He was torn, he didn’t know what to do. He could risk another punishment by trying to fight back and escape, or he could just lay there and let Sam fuck him. Neither was ideal so he decided on the middle ground and struggled underneath Sam’s grip, not enough to actually do anything, but enough that he felt like he wasn’t really submitting. Sam held him down with one hand while he ripped down his pants with the other. He swatted his ass lightly.

“If you don’t stop squirming, I’m going to give you a spanking.” He threatened. That didn’t sound even remotely close to a real punishment at all so Dean kept it up. He twisted under Sam’s hand and tried to roll onto his back. “Ah ah ah, bad boy.” Sam scolded as he sat down on the bed and pulled Dean over his lap. Sam seemed to be enjoying this, which was probably why he wasn’t pulling out the chains and whips instead. His hand came down on Dean’s butt unexpectedly hard, making him yelp in surprise. Each stroke seemed worse than the last and his ass was on fire when Sam was done, but he didn’t regret it. “Are you ready to stay still now?” Part of Dean wanted to push his luck, to keep fighting until Sam tied him up and gagged him so that he could convince himself that he didn’t want it, so he didn’t have to hear his own voice begging Sam to fuck him hard and fast until his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost all control...

“....Yes Sir…” he whispered at last, his eyes closed tight. He -did- want it, he couldn’t fight himself anymore. It was useless to pretend, he had to give in. 

So he did. He gave himself up completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one just wanted to be written and I couldn't stop until it was all out. ;) Thanks so much for reading and commenting everyone! You're the best, truly. (There's still a bit more to go, I hope you hang in with me a bit longer!)


	9. The Resigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's training is pretty much complete...

Sam had left for a supply run hours ago, Dean was starting to get worried. How long could it possibly take him to get groceries and other household crap?! He was practically pacing the living room with worry. What if something had happened to him? What if he had gotten into a car accident? Or been arrested for something? What if he wasn’t coming back? Dean knew he should have felt hopeful at those thoughts, but it was only dread and fear that filled his stomach when he thought of Sam not coming home. 

They had been living together in the cabin in the woods for almost a year now and Dean had given up any hope of ever having his old Sammy back again. He had somehow come to accept his life with this soulless version of Sam. He knew it wasn’t right, but there was no one coming to save him, and any attempts he’d made at escaping had resulted in broken bones and long stretches of isolation and solitude. He had no desire to repeat any of that, so he had just given in to his fate. And yeah so maybe it was wrong, but he had managed to find some fucked up form of happiness in his situation. At least he knew Sam wasn’t going to leave him again.

When Sam finally came through the front door Dean couldn’t control himself. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried! You were gone for hours!”

“Relax.” Sam scoffed. “I was getting you a present.”

“It’s not another gag is it?” Dean’s asked with wide eyes as he took a tentative step backwards.

Sam grinned that devilish grin, shook his head and pointed to the floor at his feet. Dean obediently came over and knelt down in front of his Master, head down and arms behind his back.

“Show me your hands.” Sam ordered. Dean lifted them palm up together in front of him without hesitation. Sam took out the little silver key and Dean gasped as he took off the iron cuffs. 

“What’re you doing?”

Sam said nothing but took off his metal collar as well and the ankle cuffs. Then he took out a small purple bag, and from it he produced a new set of cuffs and a collar made of thick black leather. Dean stared wide-eyed at Sam as he replaced his irons with the leather. It felt strange to be without the heavy, unyielding metal. The leather was so much lighter and softer, it seemed to mold to his limbs. He wondered if this meant less bruising when he struggled. Sam locked each cuff securely with the little padlocks and pocketed the key.

“Thank you Sir.” Dean said sincerely. He reached up and felt the new collar around his neck. 

Then Sam pulled out a soft black nylon rope and threaded it through the D rings on the cuffs binding Dean’s arms behind his back, and creating some sort of rope harness across his chest. When Sam was finished Dean’s arms were crossed behind him with his hands at the opposite elbow. He couldn’t help his arousal at being bound tightly like this. He tugged briefly at the ropes, testing the knot work, he was definitely secure. Sam grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair which was starting to get long and Dean opened his mouth automatically. He licked and sucked eagerly when Sam slid two fingers between his lips. And he moaned when Sam replaced them with his cock. He knew exactly what to do to get him off. His tongue teased the slit, lapping up the precum hungrily. It didn’t take long before Sam was fucking his throat, and one well timed swallow around his thick cock did him in. Dean was panting when Sam finished with him. 

He begged Sam to throw him over the coffee table and fuck him in the ass so he could cum too. Sam would never purposely get Dean off, but that didn’t matter, he could cum just from Sam hitting his prostate. By the time Sam had retrieved the lube from the bedroom he was hard again. He didn’t bother using his fingers to stretch Dean open first, he just shoved his cock in all at once causing as much pain as he could. Dean cried out and bit down hard on his lip. He shuddered and tried to squirm away, but Sam’s hands grasped his shoulders and held him in place. Once he managed to relax a little and adjust to the girth inside of him the pain-laced pleasure took hold of him. Sam fucked him hard until they both came, one after the other. 

When they were done and Dean had been untied he went through the grocery bags. “I said I wanted taquitos what the hell are these?” he asked holding up a package of vegetarian wraps in whole wheat tortillas. Sam threw a package of paper towels at his head.

“Shut up and put away the groceries or I’ll put you over my knee again.” 

Dean grumbled as he put away the rest of the food and set to work on washing the dishes and doing the laundry. He was glad he could be more lippy now without expecting a beating every time because it was hard to keep it in check sometimes. He knew he would pay for it later though, one way or another, either a spanking or being gagged for hours probably. Sometimes Sam would be particularly cruel and gag him, and then sit there eating real food in front of him even though he didn’t even need to eat. 

After he had made dinner and washed the floors and dusted everything and finished all the rest of the day’s chores Sam had another surprise for him, he tossed him a new book to read. Dean loved when Sam brought him books, it gave him something to do before lights out. He curled up on his pile of blankets and Sam locked the chain to his new collar. He played with it before opening his book. It felt so different… He liked it. Dean drifted off to sleep before lights out, his face buried in his book.

Hours had passed and the moon was up in the sky when Dean shot straight up in the middle of the night, green eyes wide, sweat pouring down his face. A single word on his trembling lips: “Cas?”


	10. The Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes a big mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be the last, but it took an unexpected turn and surprised me. So there will be at least one more chapter. The work won't be finished however, I plan to write another part and make it a series. Also I didn't see it coming, but this one turned out to be a bit darker than I thought. I blame the characters. ;) haha they seem to have a life of their own. There are more notes at the end, but they contain spoilers for this chapter.

Dean’s heart was thumping in his chest, beating so fast he could hardly hear a thing over the rush of blood in his ears. But he could have sworn he heard Castiel’s voice calling his name a second ago. He sat perfectly still in the striped moonlight on the floor, listening impatiently. Unsure if he wanted to know for certain. There was nothing but silence. Maybe it had just been a dream… He waited until his heartrate settled a bit and then he laid back down onto his blankets, pulling the fuzziest one around him for warmth. He had probably just imagined it. He eventually slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke startled and swearing when Sam dumped a bucket of cold water on him in the morning. “Up and at ‘em sunshine.” Sam laughed that evil laugh of his. “Did you think I’d let you sleep all day? You have chores to do.”

Dean groaned unhappily and wiped some of the water off his face. Obviously laundry and mopping would be first on his list, right after ‘pleasing Sam’. Sam’s fly was already unzipped and he had a fistful of Dean’s wet hair. He pulled him up onto his knees and pressed the tip of his cock onto Dean’s bottom lip. He licked at it a little, staring up at Sam coyly. A second later it was down his throat gagging him. He choked and fought for air, tears filling his eyes. Sam pulled out a bit and let him suck eagerly on the head of it until he was ready to cum, then he pulled out entirely and spurted all over his face. Great, now he was wet and sticky.

Sam let go of his hair and unchained his collar so he could go clean up. He tossed off his shirt, thankful that his pants weren’t soaked and grabbed a washcloth in the bathroom to wipe up his face. Then it was time to do the laundry and mop the floor. Sam leered at him while he did all the chores. If he was Cinderella then Sam was one pervy step mom. It really didn’t phase him anymore though. He was standing in the kitchen drying a glass when he heard it again, Cas saying his name. The glass slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor. He knew that would not go unpunished. He looked around half expecting the angel to be standing behind him. There was just Sam staring at him like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had, after all he was hearing voices.

“Dean? Where are you?” He could hear his gravelly voice loud and clear now. He swallowed the lump in his throat and licked his lips nervously. He didn’t respond and he wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to. He had been praying to him for a year now and nothing. All of a sudden he was ‘there’ and Dean didn’t know what to do. He decided to ignore him for now at least, see how he liked it. He bent down to clean up the mess of broken glass and cut his hand. 

“Dean! I know you’re still alive, I can feel you.” Castiel’s voice was more urgent. Dean was vaguely aware of Sam saying something, but he couldn’t hear what it was over the sound of the angel’s voice. “You’re hurt. Tell me where you are.”

Then Sam was next to him, saying something again, but what? “Why aren’t you answering me Dean?” The two voices seemed to converge at once demanding to know the same thing, and Sam struck him across the face hard.

“I’m sorry Sir.” He said to Sam, blinking back his confusion. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself three times Dean.” He said coolly. “You can finish cleaning up the glass and then bend over the table for your punishment.”

A knot formed in Dean’s stomach, he didn’t want to be punished for something that wasn’t even his fault. If Cas would just shut the hell up so he could hear what Sam was saying. Desperate frustration welled up inside of him and he grabbed a piece of glass and swung at Sam without thinking. He sliced Sam’s arm, but he was quick and had Dean disarmed and pinned to the ground in a matter of seconds. He immediately regretted that decision. If Sam had emotions he would have been pissed. Instead he pulled a padlock from his pocket and locked the two wrist cuffs together, dragged Dean over to the support beam in the living room and locked his arms above his head. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve really had to correct your behaviour hasn’t it?” Sam was in the corner opening up the wooden chest. “Maybe too long.” He returned carrying a leather whip and the ball gag. Dean clenched his jaw shut and turned his face away. Sam grabbed him by the chin, fingers digging into his cheeks and tried to pry open his mouth. When that didn’t work he started slapping Dean across the face, over and over, hard enough to split his lip open. Eventually he cried out in pain and Sam shoved the gag in roughly. He could taste the metallic tang of his own blood on the black rubber ball. He narrowed his eyes at Sam, feeling defiant. His mind and his heart were both racing, with hope and fear and uncertainty. Part of him wanted to tell both Cas and Sam to go fuck themselves. Where had Cas been months ago? Why had he waited until now?

The blows started landing on his shoulders hard and unrelenting, he arched his back away from Sam as much as he could but that was no use. He screamed into the gag, and pulled hard on his leather cuffs. Trying to cut Sam had been stupid. He wasn’t even sure what he had thought was going to happen. It’s not like he was actually going to really hurt Sam, he was just pissed about being punished and basically decided to throw a temper tantrum about it. Which clearly only made his punishment worse. He knew better, Sam was nothing if not consistent with the consequences. So why did he suddenly decide to be so petulant? Castiel’s unexpected contact must have reignited some faint spark of hope within him, but he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it.

“Dean, why are you in so much pain? What is happening?! ANSWER ME!” Cas’s booming voice filled his head now, he sounded frantic.

Dean clenched his eyes shut and refused to acknowledge him. He had survived worse punishments than this without Castiel’s help. Sam continued his barrage with the whip, lashing him over and over again as he built a steady rhythm. Tears were starting to slip from his eyes against his will, mimicking the trails of blood that he could feel starting to wind their way down his raw welt covered back. He shouldn’t have cut Sam, he wished he could take it back and start over, but it was too late. Now he had to suffer the consequences of his actions. 

When Sam finally finished punishing him with the whip he threw it down onto the floor and walked into the kitchen. Dean exhaled in relief thinking his punishment was over, until his eye caught a glint of silver in Sam’s hand that sent icy chills down his spine. He shook his head violently, his green eyes wide with fear and pleading and regret. He was sorry, so so sorry, Sam didn’t have to do this. He would have begged if his mouth wasn’t being stretched open by the gag. He began to hyperventilate as the tip of the knife traced lines across his chest. He could barely suck in enough air through his nose to stay conscious as Sam started slicing into his flesh. He wasn’t cutting deep, but it was enough to be terrifying and painful at once. He struggled to keep his body perfectly still, lest he move too much in the wrong direction and wind up stabbing himself on the blade. He could feel the blood sliding down his stomach in sticky wet lines. 

Cas’s voice was back, and he was starting to sound pissed. “WHERE ARE YOU DEAN?!”

‘I don’t know Cas! I don’t fucking know! Where the hell are YOU?!’ He demanded, tears pouring down his face. He hadn’t intended to answer at all, but he was overwhelmed with the pain and fear and the response just came tumbling out. 

“Try to stay calm Dean, I am going to find you. Tell me what is happening.” Cas’s voice was almost reassuring, but he could hear an unmistakable undertone of panic.

‘I cut him with broken glass, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s my fault.’ More tears fell. The knife slid down his rib cage and over his stomach, he felt like he was going to pass out any second. He was still fighting for air and trying not to give in to the darkness that was starting to settle in at the edges of his vision. 

“Cut who? Dean stay with me. What is going on?” 

‘Sam… has no soul… not his fault. I… I…’ The encroaching darkness finally took him before he could form another coherent thought.

When Dean awoke he was face down on his pile of blankets in his room. His cuffs were locked together and his collar was chained to the floor. He tried to move his legs but he couldn’t get them to close. There was a spreader bar locked between his knees. At least Sam had removed the gag. His cuts were burning, his jaw and his shoulders were aching and his ass was on fire. He wondered what else Sam had done to him while he was unconscious. He still had his pants on, but that didn’t mean they had stayed on the entire time he’d been out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he have been so stupid? What, did he think Cas was just going to instantly appear and save him from himself when he decided to try to injure the person who controlled his every movement?

‘Castiel!’ he was practically shouting inside his head. He couldn’t risk Sam hearing him. He waited. And waited. Nothing. There was absolute deafening silence. ‘Cas?’ There was no answer. What the hell was happening? He couldn’t go through this again. He would’ve yelled and punched something if he wasn’t scared of Sam hearing him and deciding to start round two of slicing and dicing him. Where the fuck was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had someone wake me up by throwing cold water on me last week so I drew on some real life experience for this one. Also I had no idea Dean was going to cut Sam, or even that the glass would break. It all just happened so fast. ;)


	11. The End?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean suffers the consequences of his actions.

Dean lost privileges for that transgression. He spent a week and a half chained up in his room, only leaving when Sam brought him to the bathroom twice a day, of course Sam wouldn’t speak to him at all either. And Cas had seemingly vanished into the wind, leaving Dean to wonder if it had all been a terrible hallucination or if Castiel was just the biggest dick on the planet. Either way he wouldn’t make that mistake twice. The angry red cuts on his chest and stomach had morphed into a delicate spider web of scabs and the welts on his back felt like they had mostly healed over. He imagined he was covered in scars, but he hadn’t seen his back in a while. He was ridiculously pissed at himself for fucking everything up. At least part of it had been Castiel’s fault. If he hadn’t distracted Dean, none of this would have happened.

“Have you learned your lesson yet?” Sam finally broke his long silence when he entered that morning.

“Yes Sir. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…” Dean was filled with remorse.

“I don’t care how sorry you are. I care that you’re smart enough not to try it ever again.” Sam wasn’t angry. He never was.

“I promise Sir. It won’t happen again.” He meant it.

“Are you ready to be unchained then?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes Sir.” He was infinitely more desperate for Sam’s attentions than he was the last time he was left in isolation. Even more than that he wanted his privileges back, he was certain he wouldn’t fuck it up this time. Sam unlocked his collar from the floor but left his cuffs chained together. Dean held out his hands expectantly but Sam just shook his head. His heart sank in his chest, it actually hurt that Sam didn’t trust him. Of course he only had himself to blame for that. Sam left him chained up even when he went to the bathroom, but after he came in and removed his cuffs and collar for the shower. Sam took the time to shave his face first, usually he let Dean do it himself, but he didn’t want to let him have any sharp objects until he could be trusted again. 

Then Sam ordered him into the bathtub but didn’t join him. Instead he stood there outside the curtain holding onto the shower head and spraying him down. The water was even colder than usual if that was possible. His skin seemed to go numb rather quickly, and he started to wonder if it was possible to get hypothermia from taking a shower. His lips were trembling uncontrollably and he couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering. If it got any colder there would be ice coming out of the pipes. When Sam finally turned the water off Dean couldn’t even get his muscles to work long enough to get out of the tub. He just sat there shivering until Sam helped pull him out. Sam didn’t leave the room to let him get dried off and dressed either, he manhandled him with the towel and then re-locked his wrists together, leaving him naked except for his cuffs and collar.

Sam pulled him by the wrists to the bedroom where he produced the rope. He threaded it through the D rings on the locked cuffs and brought Dean’s hands up to his chest where he wrapped the rope around, he wound it back and forth across Dean’s torso until his arms were completely immobile. As soft as the nylon rope was it was still scratching against his healing scabs, making him itch all over. Squirming only seemed to make it worse as he could barely move at all and the little friction he was getting wasn’t enough to deal with the itch. Sam shoved him over face first onto the bed. Then he felt powerful hands spreading his thighs apart, something encircled each of his knees and was locked into place. The spreader bar again. He felt incredibly vulnerable like this which caused blood to go rushing into his cock.

Sam pushed on Dean’s legs until he was on his knees with his ass in the air and his face in the comforter. Dean could hear himself moaning like a slut before Sam had even slid his fingers into his ass. Then Sam’s fingers were in his hair, grabbing hold and keeping him in place while his thick cock pressed up against his entrance. The heat of Sam’s skin against Dean’s was a sharp contrast after that shower and it felt like pure fire. He pushed back against Sam, seeking the warmth, craving it wantonly. 

Sam’s hand jerked his head back pulling roughly on his hair. “You want it don’t you slave? You want me to fuck you.”

“No. I..” Dean shuddered, what was the point. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Yes Sir. Please fuck me. Want it so bad.”

Sam obliged, thrusting into him hard and fast, fucking him brutally into the bed. He was loathe to admit he had missed this, being manhandled and fucked while tied up and helpless. Sam hit his prostate and he could see stars, he couldn’t form words, all that came out was whimpering and moaning. He needed this, nothing else mattered. He came even before Sam did, and every thrust that followed was delicious torture. Finally he could feel Sam’s spasms inside of him and that hot sticky mess that followed. As Sam slid out he slipped something cold and hard inside making Dean gasp. It quickly warmed to body temperature, but it was heavy and it was stretching him and everything was still so sore and sensitive, he wanted it out. There was nothing he could do about it though, except beg Sam.

“Please take it out Sir… It’s too much… I can’t…” he whined breathlessly. 

“Shut up.” Sam said and shoved the plug in the rest of the way. Dean squirmed and fought against the spreader bar. That earned him a sharp stinging swat on the ass. “You’re going to spend the rest of the day with this inside you, unless I decide to fuck you again. If I hear any more complaining I’m just going to leave you here like this. Got it?”

“...Yes Sir.” He exhaled slowly, trying to stay still and adjust to the weight of it. Sam unlocked the spreader bar from his knees and rolled Dean over onto his back. Then he walked away and came back with a pair of jeans and put his pants on for him like he was a small child. Once he was half dressed Sam untied the ropes holding his arms in place. He left the cuffs on though and let him get to his feet. Dean still wasn’t used to the plug shifting around inside him and his movements were slow and awkward as he tried to make it stay as still as possible. 

He was happy when Sam decided to give him another chance to do his chores, even if he had to do them with his wrists locked together in front of him, it was better than being left alone in his room all day with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. If he was honest with himself he was probably starting to lose it a little in there with no one to talk to. He hadn’t actually spoken to or seen anyone but Sam in about a year. Aside from the half-assed attempt at contact that Cas had made and the police officer he met the day he escaped, Sam had been his only company. And it was agonizing to be without him, even if he didn’t have much to say.

Sam was in the living room organizing and putting away some of their toys, while Dean was folding laundry in the kitchen. Dean was watching Sam brush the hair out of his eyes while he picked up a riding crop from the toy chest. It was then Castiel appeared in front of Sam and before he could react Cas had his fingers on Sam’s forehead. A blinding white light filled the room and once it had winked out Sam’s body went limp and fell to the floor. Dean threw the clothes he was holding and ran to his side, he awkwardly lifted Sam’s head into his lap with his bound arms and cradled him. 

“What did you do to him?!” he screamed at Cas. “If you hurt him I swear to god I will kill you.” He was sobbing now, tears rushing down his face. Castiel fell to the ground next to the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this part, but the story will be continued in part 2 of the series. I hope you enjoyed it. I absolutely loved all your feedback. Thanks for reading and encouraging me to write!


End file.
